sueeeus

Music is a powerful thing. The soft hint of a melody awakens emotions, bringing them to the forefront of my heart and mind, so that I am transported to that place and time, as though it were here and now, and the experience is new.

Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love
Can the child within my heart rise above
Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life

I see a little girl, four years old, microphone in hand, swaying to the music. I hear the sweet sound of her little voice, off key, singing her heart out. I see her mother, her belly in full bloom, round with my nephew, due any day. She is flanked by my nieces, teenage girls with basketballs stuffed under their shirts. The trio has taken the stage and are singing their song. I see my niece again, this time in her daddy’s arms, out on the lake in a boat, waving the orange flag. Swimmers in the water!

Happy memories of happy times.

And you ask me what I want this year
And I try to make this kind and clear
Just a chance that maybe we’ll find better days
‘Cause I don’t need boxes wrapped in strings
And desire and love and empty things
Just a chance that maybe we’ll find better days

So take these words
And sing out loud
‘Cause everyone is forgiven now
‘Cause tonight’s the night the world begins again

I see my brother’s lifeless body, cold and hard, laid out on a gurney at the mortuary. I’ve signed a waiver to release the mortuary of any responsibility for emotional damages or trauma I might experience. We all have. They are not comfortable that we are there. They have cleaned him well and put him back together nicely. He looks peaceful. His hair is soft. We look at him. We speak to him. We hold his hand. We whisper to him. We hug each other. We cry. We look at the bullet hole in his temple. We ask him why. We tell him that we love him, that we have always loved him. We cry. We cry more. The mortuary staff are pacing and restless. They have an appointment and want us to leave. We don’t want to go. But we have to. We look at him one more time. We tell him goodbye. We mourn. We grieve.

Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine
Body’s aching all the time
Goodbye everybody, I’ve got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, oooh ohhoo oooh (any way the wind blows)
I don’t want to die
I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all

A year ago today, he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Grief has sent us spinning, spiralling through so many thoughts, questions, and emotions. Much is written about the stages of grief, be there five, six, or a dozen. It doesn’t matter. There’s no easy way to come through it. There are no answers.

I recently read The Five People You Meet in Heaven. If Heaven were like that, I wonder if I’d meet my brother. If he would show me the ripples I started that had an impact on him. Good or bad.

I’ve read that Guilt is one of the stages, and I find that it best describes where I am and have been. It’s the unanswered question, “Why ” Why did this happen Could I have stopped it Did I do something, somehow, that contributed to this

I don’t know how to get past these questions.

We were close, as children. He was my buddy. I was his refuge. He trusted me. I was there for him. I was his strength. There were times that I let him down. Not many, but Guilt, Guilt brings these moments into full focus and distracts my attention from everything else, from the many many good times in which we were buddies and we laughed and smiled and enjoyed being who we were –siblings, friends. It is Guilt that reminds me of my own selfishness, that tells me that I should have been paying attention to more of my surroundings. It is Guilt that shatters my confidence in any earlier understanding that all was well, that I had been forgiven for the ripples that I had caused in our youth. It is Guilt that shouts at me, “COWARD.” Coward for not wanting to face him as adults, to see him, to speak to him. Coward for not understanding him, who he was, the person he had become. Coward for being afraid to reach out. It is Guilt that yells at me, “ACCUSER.” Accuser for thinking that he might be involved with drugs. It is Guilt that screams at me, “TRAITOR.” Traitor for wanting but not being able to trust him or believe him. Traitor for not giving him the help he asked for, when I thought it was counter-productive to his health and safety. Traitor for not believing him. For not giving him the benefit of the doubt. It is Guilt that sneers at me, “WEAKLING.” Weakling, for not wanting him to be angry with me. Weakling for not being his strength when he needed strength. “COWARD!” Coward for not going to him, for not helping him. Coward. For being afraid for him. Coward. For being afraid of him.

Guilt is a demon.

There were so many dynamics in the past few years. So many things going on. So many tangles. I can’t make heads or tails of it all. I did what I could, within the confines of the weakness of being who I am. Of being human.

I am no stranger to depression, yet the inability to understand how one can reach that place where the only solution is out, and having to face the fact that that was where he was, wrenches the very fibres of my being and sends me spinning all over again.
He knew I loved him, and that I have always loved him. I think that he always loved me too, and I hope that he has forgiven me for anything and everything that needed forgiving. Today I spread dried petals from year old roses around the box that holds his remains. Today I am home alone, to honor his memory, to work through my grief, to mourn. I am so sorry. And I miss him.

Guilt remains. Guilt reigns. Beyond the guilt, there is solace in knowing that he is free, and that he is at peace.

I pray for my family. That they might be comforted from their grief and find peace in their hearts. That they find healthy ways to address their sorrows. That they be free from the demons of guilt and torment.  That they forgive each other for their own ripples.  That their hearts be bathed in love.  I pray these things for myself, as well.

In my mind and in my heart I know that Guilt can be banished with the sword of Forgiveness. I just can’t seem to garner the strength to wield that sword. But that is what faith is for, after all. I don’t have to do this alone.

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.